


Sibling Problems OR What Happens When Your Ex-Death-Eater Sibling Gets Apparated Into Your Living Room

by alienfairyprincess



Series: Sibling Problems: Canonical and Otherwise (Sirius & Regulus Sibling-centric Stories) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Fix-It, Gen, Harry Potter has ALL the loving parental figures, Horcrux hunting and awkward babysitting are next!, Hurt/Comfort, I have all the relationship tags now lol, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, M/M, Main Plot is finished, Marlene McKinnon & Dorcas Meadowes Live, Minor Character Death, No Betas We Die Like Regulus, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regulus Black Lives, Sibling problems, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Swearing, Trans Dorcas Meadowes, this ends happy i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21417250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienfairyprincess/pseuds/alienfairyprincess
Summary: Kreacher refuses to leave Regulus after stealing the Horcrux, and instead apparates him to the one person who won't either kill him or leave him to die: his estranged older brother. Feat Badass Healer Dorcas Meadowes, James being James, Sirius and Remus actually talking, and, eventually, Harry Potter having ALL the loving parental figures (seriously, at my count he's gonna have at least six). Not sure if I'm going to be able to complete this, but I'm gonna do my darndest. Happy thoughts always appreciated!
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Remus Lupin & James Potter, Sirius Black & Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Sibling Problems: Canonical and Otherwise (Sirius & Regulus Sibling-centric Stories) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544104
Comments: 178
Kudos: 519





	1. Dying (Not Quite)

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I keep writing my favorite character dying. Why. Why do I do this.

_‘It's over.’_

So repeated Regulus Black’s last coherent thought as he slumped against the empty basin.

_‘Thank fuck it’s over.’_

The goblet fell from his shaky fingers with a dull clatter.

_‘No-…’_

Half-lidded irises stuttered unseeing.

_‘no no no, mother please-…’_

A tug on his robes.

_‘don’t hurt hi-… please, it was my-…’_

“Master Regulus?”

_‘_ _…Kreacher? No, no this was wrong, he was supposed to-…’ _Regulus blinked. Grimaced as reality momentarily flooded back in. Yanked the fake locket from round his neck with one hand. Clenched the real one with the other. “Take this.” His voice sounded raw and choked with blood. He was surprised it sounded at all. “Destroy it. And-… tell Sirius-“

The weight of the real locket left his hand.

“Tell-…” ‘…_Sirius? No! …why did you n-…’_

Vision clouded. He dropped the fake locket into the basin, and fell back, off balance, as the rapidly refilling basin coated his arms with poison.

_‘He wasn’t-… Bela-…’_

Droplets of liquid clung to his skin, searing burning rivulets down his forearms.

_‘I swear if-…’_

He raised both arms to shield his face, falling heavily, his torso landing in-…

… wet. water? fucking hell. The sudden shock cleared his mind as a myriad pale hands breached the surface.

“KREACHER LEAVE NOW.” He yelled, falling forward back against the support of the basin. Managing to free his wand from his now-drenched robes. But, as the frigid hands clutched at him, he found he could do nothing except fall into another sea of horrific memories.

_‘_ _Oh hel-…’_

* * *

Kreacher was a very bad house elf.

The very worst of house elves.

You see, he had _not_ left when Master Regulus ordered. He had taken the locket, yes. He had promised to destroy it, yes. And he would. As soon as Master Regulus, the self-sacrificing idiot, ordered Kreacher to get _him_ out too.

But of course, Master Regulus had expressed nothing of the sort. He had repeated his orders and looked very, justifiably, angry indeed when Kreacher had not left. He had yelled at him, which was rather rude. Kreacher was perfectly capable of keeping himself out of the inferi’s reach, it was Master Regulus who should be yelled at.

Then, _finally_, Regulus asked for help. Well, he was probably going for “Hell,” given his sudden proclivity for swearing (an utterly disgraceful habit picked up from his equally disgraceful brother), but Kreacher considered it close enough to an order for the dire situation of the moment, and, grabbing hold of Regulus, who had fully lost consciousness, winked out of existence to the only place where he knew for sure Regulus, no matter what shit he had gotten himself into, could find help. The utterly disordered, half-muggle apartment of one Sirius Black.


	2. In Which We Meet Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius swears. Rather a lot. *shrugs shoulders* what can ya do. I'm playing with time. Currently, I'm setting this in approx. July 1981, but that may change. Just know that everyone is having a lovely time hating each other.

_Well fuck._

_This was how it ended, wasn't it?_

Sirius Black had been jolted from a fitful sleep by a loud crack somewhere in the vicinity of the flat's entryway. That-... shouldn't be possible. All the wards had been reset and checked the previous night. He'd been very careful about it for once.

Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he blearily checked the wards. They were all still in place, as he had left them. Okkkkaayyy so Moody hadn’t gone over this one. Usual situational expectations after some unknown thing had aparrated into one's apartment at 3am generally involved screaming, explosions, and green light. Either that or a dead friend. Or both.

Best not to think that way.

Tensed and ready for a fight, he slipped into the dark hallway.

The intruder lay crumpled against the door.

_Shit._ Remus? They hadn’t spoken in months (traitors and spies and other stupid nonsense) so-.

It was too dark to – a hastily muttered _lumos_ – what?... what the hell?

The form was drenched, a dripping puddle of dark hair and darker robes and ghastly pale skin. The face-… he had to see-… he had precious few other friends who weren’t yet dead and he prayed to anything that listened that it wouldn't – wha-… Sirius’ thought processes stopped dead. His wand nearly fell from his hands.

_Oh fuck. _

“Regulus?”

_No one had trained him for this. _

The body was unresponsive.

_No one could train him for this. _

This was probably a trap.

_Fuck it. If someone was here to kill him and had brought his fucking brother like this then well fucking done they deserved to succeed._

Sirius reached a hand to check for a pulse._  
_

_It’s nice to know someone put some damn thought and care into murdering you, you know?_

His wand, unheeded in his other hand, fell to the floor with a clatter. 

_Not dead._

The noise caused the body to shift slightly, revealing mostly-lidded, vacant silver-glowing eyes. "Reg? Reg it's me are-..." He clutched at his brother's body with his newly-freed wandhand.

_Burning. _

The eyes stuttered unseeing.

_Something was-..._

Sirius jerked back his hand from where it had landed on his brother's forearm. The damp substance that coated it ate into his fingers like acid.

_What the hell?_

Sirius could feel himself start to panic. He'd expected to meet his brother in battle. Feared the moment their eyes met for the past year. 

_What am I supposed to-_

But this?

_Patronus, right. You fucking idiot._

He didn't linger long on the memory calling the patronus, just quickly sent it to Dumbledore telling him to get the fuck over here it was urgent. No one's dead. At the moment. But it's urgent.

***

One might, perchance, wonder why Kreacher had not taken Regulus back to Grimmald Place. He himself certainly wondered (and planned to berate himself for) the same thing. The fact was, Kreacher could not guarantee that Grimmauld place was safe for Master Regulus. Kreacher had seen the way Mistress, Walburga Black, had treated her sons and, while he would never question his Mistress' actions, he knew it was reasonably possible that she would refuse any care to her severely injured, dying son. 

_"Well then," speaking down her nose, "he decided to dishonor this house by failing, let him suffer the consequences. I forbid you, or anyone else, to aid him." _

That hypothetical order was one that Kreacher intended to avoid at all costs. And so, hateful as it was, Regulus' older brother was the best option.

Not that he had to like it.

Not that he had to make it any easier.

Sure, he could have stayed to explain things, but that would have required him to care one ounce about Master Sirius' peace of mind which he definitively did not. He knew for a fact that Sirius would not let Regulus die (idiots though they both may be) and besides, Kreacher had a locket to destroy.


	3. Enter Dorcas Meadowes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite competent healer (and Dumbledore) arrives, Regulus (at least for the moment) doesn't die, and Sirius has a Real PTSD
> 
> Once again un-beta'd and written after midnight because that's how I roll *finger guns*

Apparating to the front door of Sirius Black’s apartment, Dorcas Meadowes had no idea what to expect. She really needed to talk to Sirius about getting important details into his patronus messages, literally anything could have happened. Dumbledore was on his way, but wasn’t one for hurrying himself places. They had been talking in his office when Sirius’ patronus had arrived. Dumbledore had made some comment about the inopportune timing, but Dorcas hadn’t waited to hear him finish it. Quickly fumbling the ridiculous passcode he’d set as his door lock, she found herself in the hallway lit by a lumos spell with Sirius, alive, on his knees, cradling the head of another figure slumped against the wall.

“Sirius. What’s happened.”

Her friend looked up, expression half-dazed, and answered in a hoarse voice.

“Dorcas, thank Merlin. It’s Reg.”

Regulus? Sirius’ little brother? The death eater?

“He’s not dead, I think. Badly hurt though. Just appeared in the hallway here. Wards are all in place, I checked.”  
  


The heck?

She swiftly approached, throwing a diagnostic spell at the unconscious body in Sirius’ arms. Severely injured was right. “Let’s get him into the bedroom. I’ll figure out what to do from there.”

* * *

After a full hour, Dorcas felt like she could breathe again. Dumbledore had arrived approximately five minutes after her and Sirius had gotten the body onto Sirius’ bed, and together they’d managed to slow the effects of the poison and mitigate the severe dehydration it seemed to cause. Not knowing the nature of the substance ingested made it far more difficult to counter, but some modified med-kit potions and spells had been enough to stabilize him for the moment. It would likely be touch-and-go for several days, if not longer.

Dorcas began to patch up the physical injuries as best she could. It felt wrong almost, in a sense, to be putting cleansing charms over a dark mark. Of all the things she could be doing. Of all the people she could be saving. There were real, innocent people out there somewhere hurting, dying, because of this stupid teenager and the ideology he followed. And yet, Dorcas had heard Sirius talk about his brother in the boys’ dorms, first year at Hogwarts. Talking excitedly about how smart his brother was, what good ideas he’d have if he were only here-… and then breaking off with an empty look and an ‘I hope he’s ok.’ A far older look than an 11-year-old should have had. A look quickly hidden by a grin and a witty jab. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, knowing what she did about Sirius’ parents (which was far less than he told James), she could understand why Sirius still wanted to help him.

Lying there on the bed, Regulus didn’t look the two years younger than her and Sirius that he was. In fact, he looked rather like the corpse of a Victorian child; ill-fed and little-cared for in life yet propped up to pose with its sibling one last time. His face, naturally softer and less angular than Sirius’, was emaciated almost beyond recognition, his form marred by charred water-paths from mouth to chest, deep burns on both arms, and a myriad disturbingly finger-shaped bruises centered on shoulders and throat. His clothing was dripping with what appeared to be ordinary water. She muttered a drying charm and continued to clean and wrap the burns.

* * *

Sirius had sat cradling Regulus' body in a haze.

He had vaguely heard Dorcas’ request to move Regulus, and had complied, barely feeling the weight of his brother in his arms.

Barely recognizing Dumbledore’s entrance a few minutes later.

Barely noticing he had ended up seated in a chair.

Failing to notice time passing.

He thought perhaps there were people talking now, rapidly, in a hushed whisper, but he couldn’t quite register what they might be talking about.

_He was in a dim room with Regulus._

_Regulus was hurt. Unconscious._

_It was probably his fault._

_If it wasn’t, he’d make damn well sure it looked like it when mother-…_

Sirius blinked, jolting slightly.

_Fuck. That couldn’t be good. _

This was his apartment.

He hadn’t seen her in years.

His mother wasn’t here.

_But Regulus was._

A sort-of familiar woman approached him-… Dorcas.

Dorcas. His friend since bloody first year.

She said something, but whatever it was it didn’t register.

_Fuck._

_He needed to talk to James._

Sirius pulled himself upright with a jerky, uncertain motion and stumbled out of the room, the mirror-glass in his pocket feeling cold against his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it isn't a major part of this narrative, Dorcas Meadowes in this au is a trans woman who socially transitioned at the beginning of her third year at Hogwarts. Therefore, she shared a room with the marauders during first and most of second year. I use feminine pronouns for her both pre and post-transition.
> 
> I have not written a trans character before, so any feedback on this aspect of my writing, whether positive or constructive, is greatly appreciated.


	4. Panicking. 0/10 Do Not Recommend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note. This chapter contains a description of a panic attack which comes from my own experience. My experiences are not universal, but this is me trying my damndest to write what it feels like for me. A lot of my favorite coping mechanisms run around focusing on breathing, as you can probably see in this. Warning for some unhealthy coping mechanisms and momentary, accidental self-harm.

_Breathe._

Sirius didn’t breathe.

_You’re ok. This is fine. You’re fine. _

He wasn't.

_I. Am. Fine._

He really wasn't, but if he thought it hard enough maybe-… He could feel the panic rising in his chest. Ahahahah who was he kidding. He was only keeping off a proper attack through sheer force of will. 

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

It was a losing battle but like fuck was he going to have one in front of Dumbledore again.

_Focus._

Shit. There was an entire party in his bedroom and he was _not_ doing this in the kitchen. Unseeing, he managed to guide himself to the only other enclosed space in the apartment, a study of sorts. Well, that’s what he told himself it was now, but this space had belonged to Remus when he had lived there, and Sirius didn’t have the heart (not to mention the mental energy) to redesign. He really couldn’t think of that now though.

_Fuck. Breathe you idiot._

The only air he was getting came in choking gasps as he fell back against the door, finding himself seconds later curled tightly against it. He managed to free the hand holding the mirror, rasping James’ name.

_His teeth had begun to chatter and he couldn’t stop them. Bad sign._

He could feel the mirror warm in his hands, and he closed his eyes and tried to focus on slowing his breath, what little of it there was. After a few seconds he was greeted by a view of his best friend and infant son standing in a kitchen. “Pads? What’s up?” The first rays of sun peaked in behind them. Harry was awake, fussy, and trying to grab at the shiny mirror with both small hands.

_Nononono._

Harry would be scared. This couldn’t happen, Harry couldn’t-… Well, technically Harry couldn’t see him anyways, it was too dark.

What the hell, he probably had a few more seconds before he really couldn’t stop panicking. “Hi Prongs, Prongslet.” Sirius forced an incredibly fake smile into his voice, addressing Harry directly. “Listen, could I steal your da for a minute? I swear I’ll give ‘im back.”

James got the hint immediately (while Harry continued persistently grabbing at the mirror). “Lils? Could you take Harry for a sec? Sirius needs me.”

_Hey. Stupidhead. Remember that breathing thing you were supposed to be doing?_

Sirius managed to get the mirror safely to the ground before entirely losing control. He went from not breathing at all to hyperventilating instantaneously, his arms and hands shook convulsively, and his thoughts narrowed to a litany of _‘not safe not safe notsafeleaverunnonononodon’tjustdon’tnothing’._ Through this he could vaguely hear James’ concerned voice at first asking where he was and why it was dark, then recognizing the symptoms and switching to reminders to breathe and assurances that whatever was happening they’d figure it out.

After about a minute Sirius managed to gasp out that he was at home, that he was safe, and finally “It’s Reg. James. Regulus. Something’s happened and he’s here and he’s dying and Dorcas and Dumbledore are here and I couldn’t-… I can’t-… I-” his breathing quickened again, and in a way it almost felt like it would be better to just go with it. There’s a space right before you pass out that’s almost quiet, where your thoughts fucking slow down and-… no.

_James was here. He was safe. It was-…. _

Shit he’d dug his fingernails into his forearms. He slowly released his fingers and flexed them. Stared at them in a daze.

“Sirius.” James spoke slowly.

Sirius managed to focus on him. Barely.

With rising drama, “Pads. My dude. Dearest Star. Love of my life.”

He _almost _managed to roll his eyes.

“That fuckin sucks bro.”

Letting out a deep but slightly shaky breath, Sirius huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” Another deep breath, “Yah it really does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James, mentally: GODDAMN IT WHAT GOOD IS MAGIC IF I CAN'T I GIVE HUGS THROUGH MIRRORS
> 
> Also James: When Remus gets back from whatever mission Dumbledore's sent him on I am MAKING you two TALK if it kills me. FUcking hell guys.
> 
> James is a good brother. I love James.


	5. Sirius Gets A Hug

“Ok. I think we’re good here. As long as you can figure out whether and if so how the poison is still trying to kill him, he should recover. We should be able to do that from a distance, if Sirius-…” Dorcas looked around, for the first time in a while taking in her surroundings, and frowned “did he leave?”

“It does appear so.” Dumbledore said unhelpfully, in the middle of performing further checks on the unconscious body with his wand.

“I’m going to check on him. This can’t have been easy.”

Dumbledore gave a half-nod, so Dorcas wiped her hands on her trousers and headed out into the hallway. The entire apartment was dark, except for the light of the new-risen sun through the windows. She huffed. It was possible he had gone out for a walk. It was just the kind of ill-advised thing Sirius would do in a situation like this. She stuck her head into the few rooms of the apartment; Entryway, empty except for a sickeningly luminescent puddle. She muttered a quick cleaning and containing spell, uncertain whether the liquid was nefarious or benign. Living room off the entryway, empty. Kitchen, spotlessly clean (did anyone even live here?) and also empty. Other room down the hallway with the door closed? She knocked gently. “Sirius? Are you here?”

* * *

Sirius started at the sudden noise and voice, whacking his head against the door. He had been listening to James tell stories of some of their best childhood pranks (and adding forgotten bits every now and then) for a quarter-hour at least, and had entirely lost track of the outside world.

“Two knocks if you’re alive?”

He genuinely smiled. “Yes, Dorky, I’m not dead.”

“Hmmm… no knocks, I’m gonna start planning your funeral. Gonna give a killer eulogy. Can I come in?”

“Er…” Sirius scooted away from the door and attempted to clean the dried tears from his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah of course.”

Dorcas entered and, seeing Sirius sitting with his knees to his chest clutching that mirror he and Prongs shared, dropped to the floor as well. “Say hi to James for me,” she nodded to the mirror.

“James it’s-“

“Dorky! Hi!” James interrupted cheerfully. “Can you give this disaster the tightest hug you can manage? I’ll owe you.”

Sirius rolled his eyes whilst Dorcas narrowed hers. “Careful Prongs, owing favors is dangerous.”

“But?” James prompted.

Dorcas huffed. “But I always have hugs for old friends if they want them. Hug?” She opened her arms.

Sirius immediately collapsed into them and half-on top of her seated form. “Yes please.” He mumbled into her shoulder. She held onto him tightly and began running one hand soothingly up and down his back.

"He's safe." She chose to avoid using the name in case it worsened Sirius' state. "Whatever side he's on, whatever game he's playing, we'll deal with it together."

* * *

_\- January, 1981. -_

“He’s hiding things from me, I can tell. Don’t tell me he’s not-“ Remus raked his hands through his cropped hair. “I can see it in his eyes and I can’t-… I just can’t-… If-“ He broke off with a half-laugh.

“Well maybe if you talked like adults - if you fucking told him what you were up to, maybe he’d feel more inclined to tell you what he’s dealing with. But what you’re proposing is preposterous. He would never do that. Never.” James crossed his arms. “He would never betray you, you’re his soulmate. And he would never betray me either, I’m his brother.”

“His brother?” Remus ran a hand harshly over his face, “Prongs, you’re not the only one who can claim that title. You’ve said before he would give anything for you in a heartbeat. How do you know that he wouldn’t do the same for his brother by blood?”

James blinked for a moment in shock. “Really Remus? Bringing Regulus into this?” It was James’ turn to breathe a laugh, this time in disbelief. “Oh, I can tell why he’s cross with you if you brought that up to him. What does it matter-“

“Would he?” Remus interrupted. “Can you tell me with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t-” He paced to the other side of the Potter’s living room. “That he wouldn’t pick him over you?”

“Of course, Sirius is insanely loyal-“

“Yes. He is.” Remus turned to face James and James noticed he was twisting each hand anxiously with the other. “And we both know they have Regulus entirely. We both recognized him in that fight last year-… if they threatened, not Sirius’ life, but Regulus’. If they told him they would kill him, make him wish he was dead. Can you guarantee to me that he wouldn’t betray us?”

James meant to say: _“You, my dear Moony, are not thinking straight. Yes. You idiot. I do believe that with utter certainty. You might put so little value on yourself, on us, but he damn well doesn’t. Losing Regulus would kill him inside, obviously, but he already knew that was going to happen 6th year. Would he trade himself? Of course. We both know he’s a self-sacrificing bastard. But us? Never. He loves me, and he loves you, far too much for that.”_

But that’s not what James said.

For once in his life, James didn’t say anything at all.

He just stared at Remus in shock until the man gave him a curt nod and turned to leave. James unfroze and tugged him back into a hug. “I don’t know what Dumbledore has you doing,” Muttering into his shoulder and squeezing tighter, “but keep yourself safe Moony. Come back in-… three pieces or less, if you can at all manage it.”

Several months later, James was kicking himself for not just ranting at Remus’ stupid face. Goddamn it. Who knew these idiots could go this long without talking? Sirius being in that apartment alone couldn’t be good for him, even without the current circumstances of Literal War and Friends Dying, and James would bet a million galleons Remus was miserable too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. This is my first try writing Remus for this fic and I'm scared I messed it up, please be kind. It's hard to write people in difficult situations but the fictional version of James I woke last chapter demanded a chance to yell at him so-... here you all are.
> 
> Also Sirius gets a hug. Thank fuck. Dorcas is the best too.


	6. Many Sibling Feelings are Felt

Regulus woke slowly, different parts differently, and that over the course of several weeks. Occasionally he recognized things that were probably going on around him, but mostly the only thing he felt was nothing. Nothing, after the horrific hallucinations that transformed into unconscious nightmares, was everything. But slowly, parts of himself started returning. Occasionally he could recognize that people were in the room, people he didn’t know, but he was far too exhausted to do anything about it. Occasionally he somewhat regained consciousness, but then the nightmares returned and he lost it again. Once, he was convinced that Sirius of all people was holding his hand before his consciousness slipped again. Then, unexpectedly, his experiences began to solidify.

_Cold._

Wait, no.

_Not cold._

That was unexpected.

_Dry._

He wasn’t sure why but that didn’t seem like that should be correct.

_Safe?_

The conscious part of his slowly waking brain began to panic and he drifted again.

...

_Dark_. His brain supplied several hours later.

_Enclosed space. Room._

He managed to drag his eyelids half-open.

_Empty room._

Hands. Arms. He had them and could move them. Surprising. He raised one to rub across his face. Where the hell was he?

_Bandages._ _All across his palms. __The fuck?_

Memories slowly trickled into his brain. He’d turned against Voldemort. Written a cocky note. Intended to die.

_Locket?_

He moved the hand to his chest, finding a soft muggle t-shirt that was definitely not his, and no locket.

_Was that bit a nightmare too?_

But no, something must have happened. He closed his eyes again and hoped the jumbled memories and horrors in his mind would sort themselves out.

...

_Noise._

Regulus’ eyes shot open again as someone opened the room door. The person was-…

_Sirius?_

The intruder stopped short and their eyes locked. “You’re awake?”

_NonononononONONonono _

Regulus threw both arms over his face.

_oh god i thought those hallucinations were over not again fuck _

“Reg?”

_regulus’ mind had even gotten his voice right this time fucking poison can’t he just be dead hasn’t it been enough_

“Regulus!”

_Weight. _

_Hands on his shoulder._

This was real? Something was real. Was he actually? Maybe. But there were-…

_Hands._

_Hands on his shoulders._

_Grasping at him._

_Dragging him downwards._

_Closing around his throat._

_Pulling him into the frigid water._

_Drainin-…_

_…_

Regulus came to himself with both hands clenched in the fur of a ginormous black dog. He almost felt like laughing. A literal Grim, maybe now he was finally going to fucking die.

Or not.

It was a few seconds later and he didn't find himself any more dead than he had been previously.

The creature didn’t move and neither did he for over a minute as his breathing slowed. The weight of the dog on top of his body was incredibly calming. Real. His fingers slowly unclenched and he shifted to pet the soft fur instead. It was a massive creature, taking up far more of the bed than his emaciated form, and covered in thick, jet-black fur. Its head was laid on his chest. Its large, pointed ears alert and eyes closed as if asleep. A moment after he began petting it, the Grim/dog opened its eyes and surveyed him dolefully. Its grey-blue eyes were large and expressive, almost too expressive to belong to a dog. 

* * *

Sirius had panicked.

As soon as he’d touched his brother Regulus’ eyes had glazed over and he had begun shaking convulsively. Sirius didn’t know what the fuck he’d done wrong, but he also didn’t know how the fuck to fix it. He didn’t even know why Regulus was here, if he was still working for Voldemort, nor come to terms with the fact that his little brother was almost certainly a mass murderer and certainly certainly had supported some. Dorcas wasn’t even there, she’d left to help someone else and had given him instructions to check on the unconscious patient periodically and send for her if anything changed.

Something had bloody well changed, but in the moment Sirius couldn’t do anything but panic, wanting desperately to help, to comfort, but knowing better than to initiate physical contact again.

So what was he supposed to do?

Yes. He knew he was an unregistered animagus.

Yes. He knew that Regulus was the enemy and should definitely not be trusted with this information.

But Regulus was his little brother and Regulus was hurting and Sirius couldn’t help but maybe Padfoot could.

And so, he’d transformed. Padfoot whined in sympathy and curled as close as he could next to his brother, placing his head across his chest over the covers.

This seemed to be a good choice as Regulus, through his stuttered, jerky breathing, almost immediately threw both hands into his fur.

Pets. Pets were good. All doggos liked pets.

_Ouch_.

Regulus’ hands spasmed and he gripped hard on the fur on Padfoot’s neck behind his ears.

Bro. That's not how you give pets.

Padfoot attempted to adjust himself so the position wasn’t so painful, ending up curled almost entirely on top of Regulus. He really hoped he wasn’t crushing him, James had said he was rather heavy in this form.

And then, finally, Regulus had calmed.

And Regulus had started petting him in earnest.

And Sirius had looked up into his brother’s face with his doggy-eyes and realized that this was rather a problem.

He was supposed to be telling Dorcas to get her ass over here.

He was definitely not supposed to be giving animagus cuddles to a known enemy, brother or not.

But-…

Once, Regulus had had a nightmare and had gone to Walburga. One time and never again. He was four. Their mother’s loud voice, ordering Regulus to stay in his bed and never wake her like that again. Telling him that he was weak and cowardly and a disappointment. Slamming the door as she left-… that noise woke Sirius in the adjoining room. Sirius had wanted to stay in bed. To stay in his room where it was safe and where his mother wasn’t. This wasn't his job. He was tired. He wanted to, but-...

But-…

Four-year-old Regulus had dug both hands into Sirius’ hair that night while he sobbed, and Sirius had sworn he would always be there for him. Always. No matter what happened or what lay between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first day of the college semester was today! Updates will be slower, bear with me. I wanted to write this to destress afterwards but goddamnit. Another panic attack. These poor characters have been through too much.


	7. Ouch. Childhood Trauma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got laser eye surgery last friday and my eyes hurt like hell. I properly couldn't proofread this one at all because it hurts to read but I wanted to write. Please forgive any typos, I might go back and fix later in the week when I hopefully feel better

Dorcas had expected to, upon entering Sirius’ flat, find its owner listlessly staring into space on the couch near the front entry. That was, after all, where she’d found him the last two times she’d visited. Their patient had been insensible for over two weeks with steady improvement but no return of consciousness, and Dorcas was sorely needed elsewhere as one of the Order’s few trained healers, so when Sirius had (lied) said he could manage alone Dorcas had grudgingly accepted. She checked in as often as she possibly could, at least daily, but nothing had thus far changed. Nothing, that was, until today. “Sirius?” She called sharply in a half-whisper. “Sirius where the hell have you gone?” There was no noise save for a slight shuffling from the bedroom. “Sirius what-… Oh.”

Filtering light from the sole window fell on the bed where a gigantic black dog lay curled, its expressive grey eyes focused on her. Another set of eyes, these darker, more blue than grey, watched her guardedly. Their patient, Regulus, the Death Eater, was awake. His entire body had tensed at her entrance but both his hands remained caught in the fur behind the dog’s massive hears.

_Fucking hell Sirius._ Dorcas thought. Of course she knew of his animagus form. Sharing a dorm with them for two years had made her party to much of their gossip even afterwards. The trouble was, she was pretty damn certain Regulus did _not_ know.

_‘What the hell are you doing?’_ she tried to express with her eyebrows.

The dog pointedly ignored her.

She huffed and changed tactics to address the patient. “Hello Regulus. I’m Dorcas – you might remember me from Hogwarts. I don’t know how much you remember or if you know where you are-“

“I don’t.” Regulus’ voice was raspy and hollow from disuse. He lay passively and made no attempt to defend himself which Dorcas considered a good sign for a GODDAMN DEATH EATER SIRIUS WHAT WERE YOU THINKING.

Dorcas nodded, pursed her lips. “Right.” Eyeing the dog, which seemed to express ‘yes I didn’t think this through, sue me.’ “You are and will remain in the care of the Order dependent on your cooperation. If you show yourself to still be our enemy you will be treated as such.”

The patient gave a slight motion of the head in assent.

“This is your brother Sirius’ flat.”

Unlike the last statement, this garnered a significant reaction. Eyes widened in fear and hands clenched into the dog’s fur once more.

“He found you against the door in a dead faint after somehow apparating through closed wards without damage. You’ve remained in a similar state for two weeks. From what we can tell you were poisoned, but you would have to fill in that part of the story.”

Regulus’ mind seemed caught on one part of Dorcas’ statement, “Sirius. Sirius- is he-?’ the heightened emotion and speed of his question made him devolve into a fit of coughing.

“He’s fine, alive, whatever you want to know,” Regulus had returned to calm and nodded. The expressionless acceptance in his eyes bothered her, so she continued, “but to put it frankly you’ve done some shit.” The dog glared daggers at her and she crossed her arms. Y_ou can’t talk in this form you wanker so you'd better live with me being a rational person here._ “I’m willing to let you have a chance to make up for it because I know your brother and I know the shit you went through. But the moment you’re upright I will _not _see you taking advantage of Sirius caring about you to avoid facing it.”

“That’s only reasonable.” Regulus spoke slowly, which seemed to give him better luck avoiding the coughing. He freed both hands from the dog’s fur in order to lay them blankly at his sides in a manner so veiled it was almost unnerving. “I would-…" a slight tinge of emotion returned to his face momentarily, "if you’d let me see him, just so I can apologize.” A dry laugh, “not that it means anything.” The dog slid off the bed and padded out of the room. Regulus’ eyes followed it before continuing, “I’d be grateful.”

Dorcas nodded, steeling herself to deal with the impulsive _how dare you _of the other brother once she left the room.

“If you could get me an audience with Dumbledore at your earliest convenience-“

“That can be arranged. For now, I’m a healer, let me verify that you are continuing to recover and then I will let you alone. Just so you’re aware, your wand has been removed to a secure location and the door of this room is warded against you. I trust you are capable of making wise choices in this situation.”

Regulus nodded and closed his eyes as she began checking for magical or physical symptoms. “Thank you.”

* * *

"What the fuck Dorcas?" Sirius was apparently attempting to wear a hole through the carpet of the spare room by pacing when Dorcas entered, running his hands through his hair in upset.

"I only said what was necessary." Dorcas watched him, honestly quite anxious that she'd pushed it too far but trying not to show that visibly. "Sure, you shouldn't have been present for that but I couldn't help that now could I? What were you thinking putting yourself in such a vulnerable position?"

Sirius scoffed.

"You were alone. With a known death eater. You didn't send for me, or anyone else. He could have hurt you."

He threw his forehead against the far wall with a hollow, almost hysterical laugh. "Bullshit. He's far too weak to hurt anyone." His voice sank to a low mutter, "Besides, I'd deserve it, I-..."

"No." Dorcas pulled him back roughly by both shoulders. "Don't you dare."

Sirius was ignoring her, his face hidden behind disheveled locks, but he didn't push away.

"You did _not_ abandon him."

Sirius looked up at that with an empty mocking grin. Dorcas resisted the urge to shake him.

"You did _not_. You were a fucking child. A _child._ A _child_ in a horrible fucked up house who did what he had to to escape. What they did is _not _on you. Never."

Sirius' face remained blank. Like his brother's.

"You didn't deserve any of it then and you can't fucking make yourself deserve that shit now. Not from him. Not from Remus. Not from anyone." 

They were both crying. Sirius had grasped onto her arms with both of his.

"I won't let you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came into writing this like "It'll be fun! Sirius and Dorcas having a non-verbal conversation while Regulus lies there confused!" But then my brain decided to angst.
> 
> Yes. Writing the last bit was extremely cathartic for me. Yes I am entirely projecting and yes I am using Dorcas to angrily yell at my own internal monologue. Sue me.


	8. Serious (ha ha) Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I go into this chapter planning to write Regulus backstory? No. No I did not. Welcome to example 200304 of my inability to cohesive plot.

Although Sirius hadn’t thought it possible, things had returned to some sort of middle-of-horrifying-war normal after a few days. Wake up (in the living room whose sofa he had transfigured into another bed), read newspaper and coded letters, pray that none of them contain a report of another loved one’s death, eat sandwich, bring additional sandwich to definitely-a-war-criminal ex-death-eater brother, play exploding snap with self… cave and bring exploding snap to only other living being in the house.

_Tap t-tap._

“Sirius this is your room. No need to knock.”

Sirius opened the door to find his brother propped upright in bed with a book in his lap.

“How are you?”

Regulus smiled weakly, gesturing with the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ Sirius had found for him as a joke. “Followed Austen’s advice and took ‘a turn about the room’ for fifteen minutes.”

Sirius snorted.

“And I’m exhausted. Can I help you?”

“I was going to try and convince you to play exploding snap with me but-…” He threw himself onto the base of the bed. “You’re tired.”

Regulus huffed and put the book aside. “Sirius.”

“Hm?”

“You need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Treating me like there’s nothing wrong. Like I’m just your little brother and you’re so damn excited to see me.”

Sirius’ posture stiffened, but he didn’t respond.

“I’ve killed people." Regulus raised his eyes to the roof. "I’ve tried to kill your friends. Your _real _family.”

That seemed to snap his brother’s composure. Regulus' eyes snapped back as he stood up abruptly with a furious expression. “Yah, I fucking know that, thanks for reminding me. Was saving that conversation until you weren’t actively dying.”

“Don’t coddle me, I’m not a child-“

“But you showed up in my entry half dead! Forgive me if I keep a half-assed bedside manner prepared for the inevitable death of someone I care about! Of course I’m angry. Of course you’ve been tearing my heart to bits every choice you’ve made since you turned away when you saw me third-year! But none of that fucking matters right now because this is a war and if this is the only way I can have my brother back then I’ll take it. So stop it with the moral quandaries and tell me what the fuck happened to you.”

Regulus opened his mouth, then shut it again. Sirius had crossed his arms and turned to face somewhat away from him. This _was _what he’d wanted – Sirius leaving him alone. Looking at him distrustfully. Recognizing the horrible thing he’d become. And yet-…

Yet-…

In his heart of hearts he knew Sirius was the only one who might get it.

“The same thing that happened to you, brother.” His voice was hoarse, “Only difference is you were smart enough to run.”

An abrupt and angry denial passed rapidly across Sirius’ face before he shook his head and turned away further, long black locks masking his expression. “But then you did.” He coughed slightly, a hand raising to swipe against his face before returning clenched to his side. “Came to me. Why?”

Real conversation didn’t come easily for Regulus in the best of circumstances. This circumstance was far from that. He left the question unanswered for what felt like millenia, wishing to speak but not knowing the words. In a sense it was easy: _‘I didn’t. I never could run but found that I could at least die. Then at the last moment Kreacher brought me here - as a practical joke against you because, as you well know, he hates you.’ _But that wasn’t true. Not really. In his last moments whilst being dragged under the only place he had wanted to be was _with Sirius _because whatever else Sirius was Sirius was _safe_. And god. Dying of poison but lying in his brother’s arms was the safest he’d felt in the decade since his brother had first left Grimmauld Place.

_Well, slight poetic license the hallucinations at that moment were utter shit._

Sirius had once been able to near-read his mind; not in the painful, intrusive, violating way Voldemort preferred, but in the twins-holding-hands-in-a-horror-movie-who-ask-you-to-play-with-them way. Regulus figured that if this was important enough information to be shared he’d manage to do it again because Regulus for sure didn’t have the audible words for it.

A sound of frustration escaped Sirius. “At least tell me how you got here?”

_Right._

_That should be manageable._ “Kreacher.”

“Kreacher? As in Dearest Mother’s mangy old house elf?”

Regulus shot him a glare. “As in the only living creature who truly cared about me after you left. Yes.”

Sirius turned his back to the window. “Ok, so why did Kreacher bring you here?”

Regulus huffed. “I betrayed the Dark Lord and almost killed myself in the process. I suppose he couldn’t think of anywhere else where my permanent death wasn’t assured.”

“And now we get back to the question of why.”

A pause. There were so many possible whys. Best stick with the literal one. “What do you know of horocruxes?”

* * *

At 15, Regulus had felt in control of his situation for the first time in his life. The esteem he had built with the other Slytherins due to his birth and connections was only enhanced by his new status as the sole Black family heir. For the first time, people were paying attention to him for him, not for Sirius and not for his father. At the same time, if he looked deeper (which he didn’t), much of his feeling of pride and success was in fact rooted in anger. With every smile ingratiating himself to some clueless higher year, his subconscious announced ‘See? See Sirius? I can do it. Why couldn’t you have just stopped your whining and stuck it out. But no, you abandon me to go play family with those happy undamaged friends of yours.’

As it turned out, Regulus was exceptionally good at making friends in high places. Too good. On a Hogsmeade trip midway through his fourth year he found himself face to face with his eldest cousin Bellatrix. “I’ve been hearing things about you, little cousin.”

“Things?"

“That you’ve got your head on straight." She attempted to tap a finger against his head, but he evaded her. "Know the way the wind’s blowing.” She really was rather theatrical, her long unkempt hair floating about her like a reverse halo.

Also she definitely didn’t understand personal space. Regulus didn’t respond, but stepped back to keep a few feet between them.

“There’s a war coming Reggie.” She grinned. “Those who choose wisely and join the service of the Dark Lord will be rewarded.”

“As I understand. My mother has acquainted me with the situation and the side I am to take.” Stiffened posture and empty smile.

Bellatrix cocked her head, looking him over, trying to see through him. “Meet me next weekend at twilight on the outskirts of town. I’m sure your little head is clever enough to manage escaping school.”

********

Regulus had rather anticipated meeting their leader that night. Instead, he found himself met with yet another group of his peers along with some recently-graduated students from his house. Most were excited to be there. Very few had any clue what was going on ,other than that they felt important and were going to make the world better for themselves and their families (with less than no concern for everybody else). These meetings too were just stupid posturing, to which Regulus had been well-trained. He had naively hoped something _important_ would happen. Or at the very least something interesting.

That was a hope he would very soon wish to take back.

* * *

_‘You need to talk to Sirius.’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Fucking hell Remus. It’s been months! Thought you both would have gotten over your hissy fits by now.’_

_‘Can you tell me definitively, with proof of the true culprit, that Sirius is not the spy?’_

_‘>:(‘_

_‘James.’_

_‘I can tell you it’s not him.’_

_‘Your undying loyalty is not reassuring.’_

_‘ARGH’ _

Despite having spent AGES making nearly undetectably charmed two-way notepaper to cheat on tests (super handy, as each message would disappear thirty seconds after created), James was so, so tempted to crumple it up and throw it across the room.

_‘Look. The whole reason you believe it’s him is because of Regulus right?’_

_‘To grossly oversimplify.’_

_‘Regulus showed up half-dead on Sirius’ doorstep three weeks ago. He’s been in order custody ever since. And yet, our enemies are still three steps ahead. So either he’s decided to endanger us for funsies now, or it’s _

_Not._

_Him.’_

James underlined each word childishly.

The only responding message was an ink dot that slowly built as if the quill had been left stationary for far too long. Finally: _‘There could be other explanations.’_

_‘Right. And, since Peter’s out of the country, Dorcas is working her arse off, and I heard from Marlene that you were at an order meeting last Tuesday, I’m holding you personally responsible for the fact that no Marauder has hugged my brother in over a week!’_

_‘James.’_

_‘If you don’t fucking talk to him I will stab either you or myself with one of Lily’s pencils.’_

_‘You cannot-‘ _The rest of the message was covered in scribbles.

_‘Very mature, Prongs.’_

_‘>:(‘_

_‘Fine! Fine. I’ll go over and yell at him about what are absolutely irreconcilable trust issues and make his day a thousand percent worse. Happy?’_

_‘:)’_

_‘I hate you.’_

_‘:(‘_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of my teen-Regulus! I usually write him either as a child or at 19, so it's been interesting trying to write an in between. Will likely have more of him in the beginning of the next chapter.
> 
> Also Remus as a last second addition, and James who is Way Ahead Of His Time using emojis. Shush. A James without emojis would be the true tragedy.
> 
> Also, I've got two months left of classes and 30k of nonfiction to write so updates will continue to be v e r y slow.


	9. Enter Remus, Stage Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Remus Actually Talk. Maybe. About 1/8 of a talk. With the expectation of at least another 1/8th in the next chapter.

_Meeting Voldemort was…_

Regulus’ eyes glazed.

_Voldemort was-…_

How to describe it?

Regulus had expected someone handsome, aristocratic, charismatic, like his father. What he met instead was more like one of the dark objects in their home come to life. Voldemort _looked _like a man. Theoretically. But the power about him crackled and warped so heavily that one couldn’t quite be sure the fissures weren’t also apparent on the marble of his skin. The air itself surrounding him felt _wrong_, off, like it was missing a piece. Regulus was instantly reminded of one particular cursed doll Sirius had nicked in their mother’s study one boring afternoon when he was ten. The moment it touched his skin his eyes rolled back and he fell, insensible, to the floor. Regulus had run to him and attempted to wake him, but to no avail. His body shivered and convulsed. Veins of black ran up his arm and through the whites of his eyes. Regulus tried to pry the doll from him, but his hand was clenched in a death grip. It was hurting him, killing him, but the moment he had reached for it he had lost the ability to let go.

Then again, to lose something, you must have had it in the first place. Sirius had suggested once that Regulus could let go, leave, drop the cursed doll that was their parents and find out what kind of person he was without it. Regulus had never really believed him. He couldn’t just _drop _the doll. Someone had to carry it. Just because Sirius couldn’t didn’t mean it didn’t have to be done. Voldemort, well, he was just another cursed doll that had to be carried.

* * *

“So. Voldemort created a horocrux.”

“Yes.”

“Using the darkest of dark magic.”

“Yes.”

“And you stole it?”

“Technically.”

“And left a note telling him to go fuck himself.”

Regulus winced, “not in those words.”

Sirius looked touched. “My baby brother told the Lord of All Evil to go fuck himself! I am-“ wiping a fake tear, “so proud.”

“Right.” Rolling his eyes, “Getting back to the point. I told Kreacher to destroy the locket, but he hasn’t been able to. I could ask him to bring it here, but-“

“That plus you would give my flat an aura of dark magic strong enough to be tracible, which would be the epitome of a Bad Idea. And _home_ is already so full of dark magic that even something like this is nothing.”

Regulus nodded, the fatigue from earlier showing on his face. He settled himself down horizontally in the bed and looked about to close his eyes.

“One more thing-…” Sirius seemed uncertain how to proceed, “Someone in the Order is spying for Voldemort. You wouldn’t-…” He broke off.

Regulus paused for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. “The Dark Lord trusts very few with that kind of information, I’d guess Bellatrix knows, possibly others, but not me. Even if I did know or theorize, I have no way to prove my words and-.”

Sirius huffed. “And I can’t trust you either way, of course.”

A slight, tired smile, “You’re smarter than you look.”

Sirius stood. He wanted desperately to hug his brother, but remembering the way Regulus had reacted to unexpected contact before he instead reached out his hand. Regulus took it and squeezed once, before yawning.

“’M sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Stupid sentimental brother.” Regulus dropped his hand and rolled away from Sirius towards the now dusky window.

* * *

Horcruxes. What the absolute fuck?

Sirius’ first action upon leaving the bedroom was to send a message to Dumbledore. Not explaining all that, in case it was intercepted, but saying that Sirius had important information to share and that he should come at his earliest convenience. His second action was to collapse onto the couch-turned-bed and curl up into the smallest ball he possibly could whilst in human form. He didn’t quite panic again, but he also didn’t quite not. He had guessed some things from the stuff Regulus didn’t talk about, things he didn’t want to think about and wanted to pretend weren’t real. But he couldn’t not think about them and he couldn’t not think about what his brother had been through and had become. He just wanted him to be ok. He just wanted them all to be ok. But he wasn’t and they weren’t and there wasn’t the slightest thing Sirius could do about it. All he could do was curl up in a ball and pretend he wasn’t a human and they weren’t all hurting with every ounce of his soul.

Some indeterminate time later, Sirius was woken from his not-quite-conscious not-quite-not daze by a knock at the door. As the wards hadn’t been triggered, he assumed it was someone from the Order. Either Dumbledore responding to his message or someone Dumbledore had sent instead to explain that he was too busy. Without overthinking it he grabbed his wand and went to unlock the door’s magical trick locks. Time to explain the stuff about horocruxes he remembered from a creepy book or two he’d opened once upon a time and insist that it might only be 9pm but Regulus was definitely asleep and definitely should not be woken up. He was working through all this in his head so that it took an entire half second after opening the door for his brain to entirely stutter to a halt.

_Remus?_

He stared blankly. The other man shifted awkwardly and managed, “I heard about Regulus.”

In that moment, Sirius was convinced Remus was there to kill him.

It was simple, really. Voldemort had found out that Regulus had betrayed him and survived and had sent his spy to finish the job. And Sirius was in the way, and knew about the horcrux, so he was going to die.

_No. Please no._

The worst part of it was, Sirius knew in that moment he couldn’t fight it. His _brother _was sleeping in the other room, entirely defenseless, under wards that made it impossible for him to run. He had vital information that could change the course of the war, and yet-…

“From James. James told me.”

_James. James was safe. James was-… oh. That made sense. Not a ploy which meant-… Remus was really genuinely here for some unknown reason. Right. Tunnel vision was a bad sign. Fuck. If only he could get his hands to stop shaking. _

“Sirius?”

_Losing battle, that. _

Feeling pressure on his left shoulder, Sirius pulled himself back to whatever the hell current reality was. Remus was looking at him like he _cared_ like he was _concerned _which was just so abjectly false it was laughable. “Why are you here?” His voice sounded stronger than he expected it to, and far more detached. Thank his family for turning repressing emotions into an art form.

“I-…”

* * *

Actually talking to Sirius had been the furthest thing from Remus’ mind after his argument with James. Ridiculous threats like that might have worked when Remus was 17, but that was before all this shit. James was childish and annoyingly optimistic. Still. Somehow. He stubbornly still believed they were all going to make it through this. They’d be lucky if one of them did.

The secret missions Dumbledore had sent him on, trying to recruit werewolves and other dark creatures that were hated and mistreated by wizarding society in general and so had absolutely no reason to trust or side with him, had been just as successful as he had told Dumbledore they would be. I.e., they were absolute hell, and only increased his feeling that everything was pointless and they were fighting a losing battle that would end with all of them dead or worse. All he wished for, when Dumbledore finally gave him a reprieve, was to fall into Sirius’ arms and pretend it was ok and they wouldn’t be getting news of another friend’s death all too soon.

But he couldn’t.

Because Sirius was the spy.

Both he and James loved him too much, were too blind to face the truth head on. He’d talked with Peter. Peter understood.

So how dare James put everything in front of him that he couldn’t have? Play it off like a joke? Like all they had to do was talk and suddenly Sirius would actually love him rather than faking it like he had been for months? Ha. You can’t be that close to someone and not see that a part of themselves is hidden from you. That they’re hiding something and no matter how hard you try they do not and will not trust you.

He could stab himself with a dozen pencils for all Remus cared.

_And yet-…_

The one thing James had done was give Remus a seed of doubt.

What if he was wrong?

What if it wasn’t Sirius?

But if it wasn’t Sirius who else could it be?

There wasn’t anyone else.

_And yet-…_

In the end, it was the thought of Regulus - why was he there and _was Sirius ok_ and was he trying to manipulate him? He knows the brothers were close once, but _Sirius was alone in that flat with a death eater who was also a member of his family and-… wait. Didn’t he think Sirius was already working with them? Then why did it make him feel so sick to even imagine it? It must be that love-blindness he talked with Peter about _– that had Remus aparating outside the familiar wards.

_They didn’t have to talk._

He knocked twice in quick succession.

_He’d just see Sirius’ face, remember why he wasn’t talking to him, and then leave._

Sirius’ face.

_Fuck._

Something was very, very wrong. Sirius at first looked at him with the expected expression of shock, but the moment he spoke it quickly morphed into one of horror and fear. About a tenth of Remus’ brain felt vindicated because _see he’s guilty and hiding something _but the large majority was far too well versed in the expressions of Sirius to fall for such suspicion. All the mind-doors behind Sirius’ wide grey eyes were broken open and behind them was fear. Fear of-… _No no no he’d seen that expression on others’ faces when they read the increasingly horrific newspieces about werewolves but never Sirius, never- _He felt like he was going to cry. Why on earth would he come here just to see Sirius looking at him like he expected Remus to attack him. Why-… James. Right. James said-

“From James. James told me.”

Sirius’ expressions shifted at a dizzying rate. His face had always been an open book, although he’d gotten better at hiding it recently, but now it was overwhelmingly so. It was worrying, _the last time Remus had seen him like this was when his cou-… _he swayed precariously on his feet, eyes drooping. Remus automatically shot out a hand to support his shoulder in case he collapsed.

“Sirius?”

Finally, Sirius looked up at him again, but his eyes had closed off. They looked utterly empty, as if in order to curb whatever emotion he had been having he’d thrown out his entire soul with it. “Why are you here?” His voice too was empty and aristocratic and just the way it had sounded when they were teens and he had told them his summer had been ‘fine.’ Taking hours to shift back into the friend they knew. Hiding bruises under long sleeves as Remus did scars.

“I-…”

How do you say _I missed you and I’m worried about you and right now I just want to hold you and never let go _when you were the one who left? How do you say _I’m sorry I was wrong _when a scared part of you still thinks you might have been right? How do you say _I love you_ when ten minutes ago you believed they didn’t care? How do you-…

The answer is, you don’t.

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Sirius’ eyes narrowed angrily but still so, so empty. He detached Remus’ hand from his shoulder with his own, but then didn’t drop it. He looked down and mumbled, “But you did. And I’d like to know why. Come in for tea?”

Remus’ brain had properly panicked about 15 second ago. _He’s not too afraid of me to touch my hand. Shit. I touched his shoulder. I didn’t even think. He’d never been like that before but of course it’s reasonable that a human wouldn’t want to touch a werewolf. I am very much dangerous and unsafe and fuck why won’t he let go so I can leave and-… wait what?_

“Oh. Tea." _Oh shit were they actually going to talk? _"Yes, that sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a wild one to write. It came out all sideways and backwards to what I was expecting, but honestly I'm pretty happy with it. Please, please leave me a comment and let me know what you think. Actual shippy content! From me of all people!


	10. Difficult Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REMUS AND SIRIUS ACTUALLY HECKING TALK *universe explodes at the improbability of it*

Tea.

Water (just off boiling). Sugar. Bag of dried leaves.

Stare at awkwardly for four minutes.

Remove said bag of leaves. Milk. Stir.

Bring mug to other person who has for four minutes sat staring awkwardly at surface of table.

Other person who you haven’t seen for months.

Person you once knew better than anyone else in the world.

Join in activity of staring at table from opposite side.

Push cup with finger and wonder whether saying anything is worth it.

“I thought you were the spy.”

The words broke the stillness into brittle shards. Neither looked up. Neither was quite certain whose words they had been.

“Well that’s fucking stupid.”

Sirius. That was Sirius.

The silence slowly rebuilt. Golden veins masking the fissures in the fragile barrier.

“I know.”

Silence.

“I thought you were too.”

Beat.

“You thought I would spy for people who want me and everyone like me dead?”

Remus’ demeanor had shifted back to tight coldness. Energy and movement seeped from Sirius’ every pore, particularly when agitated, and the way he would respond wasn’t rational or predictable. Logic, predictability, that was Remus’ safe place. Speaking calmly and looking at things objectively and never, ever being out of control. Emotions were unpredictable and unsafe and unsafe was something Remus could never afford to be. His hands gripped his mug with white knuckles, but his face seemed carved of marble save a slight biting tilt to his eyebrows.

Sirius knew this, but at the same time found the lack of reaction, of emotion, upsetting, particularly now. He stood angrily.

“You thought I would for a family I barely escaped from with my life! At least I have a reason! You left, for months on end, on supposed “missions” that neither I nor anyone else in the Order, and I checked, knew about! You returned with deep wounds and new scars and couldn’t look me in the eyes and wouldn’t let me help you or even tell me who or what had caused it!”

“Dumbledore said-“

“Don’t I mean more to you than him? Don’t I mean enough not to be left in the dark with no idea where you are or if you’re coming back or if you’re even alive?”

“If you were working for-“

Sirius laughed. A heartless, empty, hysterical thing. Throat bared. Fingers biting into the skin of his forearms. Pale face white and blue-tinged from lack of oxygen. Extremities shifting between visibly shaking and locked inhumanly still.

“How could you think that? Remus, I-“ His fingers unclenched and shifted to wringing. He swayed slightly on his feet. “I-“

“Sirius sit down.”

“I-“ His breathing was stilted and raspy and his eyes had started to glaze over.

“Sit. Down.”

Sirius fell back into the chair, gripping his arms protectively in front of himself. “I would never.” He muttered between unsteady gasps. “Never. Not to James, and especially not to you.”

Remus dropped his head into his hands. “I know that. I know. I just thought-“ a deep, shuddering breath. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

They both remained where they were for a moment. Trying to regain control of their breathing. Finally, Remus dropped his hands.

“Dumbledore had me with Fenrir’s pack.”

Sirius froze but said nothing.

“He believed I might be able to convince some of them to come to our side.”

Remus kept his eyes on the table.

“At first I didn’t tell you because I knew you would make a fuss and I didn’t need-… I didn’t _want _to be coddled. I owe Dumbledore a lot, and if that was what he needed from me I-“ he smiled wryly, eyes remaining down, “what’s a little more trauma when I’ve already got so much.”

Sirius still made no sign.

“And then,” Remus paused and made a face, “Well, you responded so badly. It was clear you didn’t trust me. I knew it was worry, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder _why _it meant so much to you. Someone was turning over important information and I hadn’t shared this with anyone. It was important, and whoever the spy was they didn’t know. James thought I was being ridiculous, but he always is so loyal, and when I talked with Peter he seemed to understand. Of course I didn’t tell them what I was doing either, but the fact that James of all people accepted it and you didn’t-…”

Silence.

“I became convinced that you were hiding things from me, which only reinforced what I thought to be true. But if you thought I was spying for-… for him, you would act just as you did.” That was it. Remus didn’t feel like he had anything else to say. He began picking at his fingernails nervously, still unable to look up.

After a minute, Sirius cleared his throat. “Dumbledore had you with other werewolves?”

Remus nodded.

“With Fenrir. That’s why you were gone for so many full moons, and why you always seemed so-… not ok, when you came back.”

Sirius stood, taking a step closer around the table. Remus shrank down in his chair.

“Please-“ Sirius broke off with a stifled noise deep in his throat. “Remus, please. Forgive me.”

In an instant, Remus was up and had thrown his arms around Sirius’ chest.

Sirius clutched at him tightly with a dry sob. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, “I should have trusted you. I should have believed you. I-“ He shuddered.

“Me too.” Remus’ voice broke. “I should never have doubted you.”

They stood there, together, for a good minute before either made any sign.

“I would have fought Dumbledore though.” Sirius muttered into Remus' neck.

“I know.”

“I can’t even imagine you-“

“Trust me I don’t want to remember it either.”

At that moment, a paper airplane appeared out of nowhere and whacked Remus right in the head. He let go of Sirius with one arm to grab it and unfolded it to reveal the words ‘NOW KISS!!!’ in the all-caps of James Potter’s absolute worst handwriting. Remus crumpled the note with a watery laugh and dropped it in favor of wrapping both his arms tighter around Sirius.

“Fuck you James.” Sirius muttered, before maneuvering his hands to the sides of Remus’ face and doing exactly what he had recommended.

* * *

“Heard Remus is back. Do you think he and Sirius have made up yet?” Had Marlene Mckinnon figured out how to charm her wand into the magic version of a two-way radio to chat with her girlfriend? Yes. Was it legal? Probably not, but this was a war after all.

“Nah, they’re both idiots.” Dorcas chuckled, “but speaking of, how is my very favorite idiot?”

“Bored out of my brains." Marlene whined. "I’m pretty sure my family’s all asleep, but I can’t sleep and my beautiful girlfriend’s off being a hero on an overnight shift at St. Mungos!" She sat up and pointed a finger at the wand as if Dorcas could see it, "Which I am insanely proud of her for, by the way.”

A weary sigh. “The number of civilian casualties this war is causing is unprecedented. It’s really-… hang on I’ve got an alarm. Need to go. Love you.”

“And I love you.” Marlene threw herself back on her bed with a huff. People needed help. People were dying. And all she could do was lie here and take the Order-mandated three-day break she’d fought against.

And she couldn’t sleep.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how many sneazels she counted, she just. Couldn’t. Fucking. Sleep.

It wasn’t like there was anything particular the matter.

It was just-… Something. Something very deep and fundamental, right at the edge of her vision where she couldn’t quite see it, felt _wrong._

The air itself felt _wrong,_

off,

like it was missing a piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the thing with James actually feasible? Nope! Do I care? Nope! Special thanks to @ABlitheringIdiot for all her support with this fic, her and James both were rooting for this to happen.
> 
> Also I was very proud of myself for reworking words from the last chapter into the ending of this one. Let me know if you caught it! As a note: I am /not/ killing any of the gays in this fic.


	11. The Plot Thickens

Sirius woke the next morning with his head burrowed into Remus’ shoulder and both the other man’s arms wrapped tight around him. He felt _safe_, and he could have cried (again) because he hadn’t felt that way in months. He hadn’t slept well once in the weeks since Regulus arrived, plagued by memories and abstract fears reactivated by his brother’s presence. To wake long after the sun had risen feeling _safe_ and _ok_ was entirely unreal.

_Why had he woken up? Remus was clearly still asleep. There was absolutely no reason to be-…_

A weird knocking noise reached his ears.

_Whatever had caused that?_

Apparently someone was knocking on his closed bedroom door.

_Why on earth?_

...

_OH SHIT he’d forgotten about Regulus._

Sirius drew himself upright (provoking a half-asleep complaint from Remus who attempted to pull him back down).

“Shh Moony, ‘ts ok, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“No. Dunleave.” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes.

Sirius hesitated and smoothed a hand through his partner’s unruly curls.

The knocking had become more insistent.

“Just a minute, I promise.”

By the time Sirius got to the room door he was awake enough that the weight of reality had returned. The disconnect was sickening and a part of him felt guilty that he had been so inescapably _happy_ just minutes before.

Sirius opened the door to find his brother seated on his bed, tapping a foot against the ground anxiously. “Oh good, you’re not dead.”

“Nope.”

Sirius’ expression was careworn, but his eyes held more light than at any point Regulus had seen him recently. It would be an understatement to say Regulus had been worried about him, and so now he regarded him quizzically, “have you heard back from Dumbledore?”

Sirius shook his head, “Not yet.”

A nod.

“How are you feeling?” They had both spoken at the same time.

“Better.” Regulus answered. “I expect I won’t be allowed to remain your prisoner much longer, brother.”

“You’re not my-“

“I speak in jest.” Regulus waved him off, “I only hope I will be permitted to do some good before I face punishment for my past actions.”

“I won’t let them hurt you.” Sirius knew his words were empty, but he’d be damned if he let his little brother be lumped in with the other death eaters after risking so much to betray them.

“It’s far too late for that.” A wry smile, and a quick change of subject. “I’m feeling up to joining you in the kitchen for breakfast, if you were amenable. Oh-” he broke off with a look of recognition. “Remus. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Regulus.” Remus nodded stiffly. Sirius hadn’t noticed that Remus had joined him in the doorway until Regulus mentioned it. “Sirius can we talk?”

Sirius noted the guarded expression on his face and nodded quickly, “We’ll be back.” and directed Remus into the other room.

* * *

When they entered, an unreadable expression crossed Remus’ face as he noticed that all of his things – books, records, winter clothes – were as he had left them.

“If you regret what happened last-”

“Do you trust him?” Remus interrupted.

“Huh?”

“Regulus. Do you trust him?”

“Not at first but-” Sirius’s expression was determined and just a tiny bit guilty. “yes. I do.”

Remus crossed his arms protectively in front of himself. “Why?”

“He’s not lying purposefully. I-… we were close once. I can tell.” He paused for a second, looking away. There were two things he couldn’t explain: 1. Why telling the truth even if it was uncertain or nasty meant so much to him, and 2. How to explain the specific type of _terrible_ liar his brother was. Regulus was a creative partial-truth teller and could lie by omission but lying outright and manipulating emotions were two skills that just- he never seemed to _get _and so Sirius couldn’t imagine that he’d figured out how to become proficient at them. “The explanations he’s given, the information about horcruxes, it all checks out and matches up with what I know of him, our ‘family,’ and the Dark Lord. He’s not under Imperius, Dorcas and Dumbledore both confirmed it. And I know-” the emotion in his voice was rising although he kept the tone quiet, “I could be deluding myself because having my little brother by my side is all I’ve ever wanted but-“ tears fell from his eyes, “he’s not lying to me and I can’t abandon him again. I just can’t.”

Remus pursed his lips but nodded slightly. “Ok.”

“Ok?” Sirius repeated with an incredulous expression.

“You know him far better than I do. I don’t trust him, but I’m going to trust you. Just-“

He paused, moving to picking gently at his own fingers, tears forming in his eyes.

“Don’t trust a former death-eater over me again, I don’t think I could bear it.”

Sirius nodded and pulled him close again, murmuring further apologies and reassurances into the soft fabric of Remus’ shirt.

* * *

Regulus had indeed managed to join them for breakfast. Sirius felt even more happy at this sign that his brother was recovering. They had almost finished when a shimmering Patronus appeared in the room.

Neither Sirius nor Remus had a chance to recognize its owner before its words erased that question from their minds.

_‘The McKinnon family were targeted last night. Report to- [a garbled, coded address] -immediately.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(
> 
> This chapter is not well written nor long, it's just been too long since I've posted something and I wanted to say that I'm still here! Not dead yet! Still working on this plot (and all of my current wips). The next chapter is going to be s a d and I am not ready. (As before said, it's going to end ok and the lesbians will eventually be fine I swear) I may edit and repost this chapter if I decide to extend it.


	12. Pain. So much Pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific warnings for just like-... a lot. Please be careful. 
> 
> Warnings: Death, corpses, murder, references to torture, suicidal ideation, if there're more things that need to be tagged please let me know because I tried. 
> 
> This chapter hurts, guys. I'm sorry. Just remember that this story /does/ end happy (ish) and the lesbians do not die. They /will/ get to kiss dramatically while walking away from an explosion. It /will/ happen.

The meeting was deathly quiet. So many were missing, so many had been lost in the past few months, but to lose Marlene-… Even the thought of Marlene was so full of life that picturing her dead was near-impossible. Like recognizing someone with bright-dyed hair in greyscale.

There wasn’t even a body to mourn.

Not that that made a difference but-

By the time members of the Order had reached the house, it was in flames. Orange tongues of fiendfyre arched hideously into a black sky lit with green.

The bodies they’d recovered were too charred to identify.

* * *

Sirius sat alone, next the empty seat that should have been James’. Remus seemed to have assumed they would sit together when they’d entered, despite the physical distance Sirius had put between them ever since the Patronus arrived. He had shot Sirius an expression that Sirius might have interpreted as hurt when Sirius moved to the opposite corner of the table from him. Sirius didn’t care to recognize the expression. He didn’t care to feel anything about anything. Even the thought of allowing anyone to comfort him made him feel guilty.

Lily’s best friend was dead, and she couldn’t even be here.

The only person here was him and he was _useless_.

The worst thing was catching Dorcas’ eye across the table. The person who was always so calm, who had been a rock and a constant since their first year at Hogwarts, well-… she was still calm. Calm, but her eyes were empty. An unsettling thing, for elements that had always been so full of kindness and care.

Sirius didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t do anything. Dumbledore droned on, methodically explaining the facts of what had happened. He outlined some sort of plan, but Sirius either couldn’t or couldn’t care enough to listen. It didn’t matter anyways. The death eaters couldn’t have known where the McKinnon family’s safehouse was without the spy. A spy. Someone at this table had caused Marlene’s death and he couldn’t for the life of him believe it of any of them. He had almost convinced himself it was Remus but he now knew that was impossible (when he finally saw James again he would let him lord his correctness over him as much as he wanted, as long as Sirius was able to hug him as tight and for as long as he could). But it had to be someone. And that idea drove him insane.

Suddenly, Dorcas pushed her chair back. Her expression remained blank as she quickly left the room. Others looked after her, but without moving. Dumbledore paused for a moment, and made some grand statement about processing grief.

Sirius felt helpless. Frozen. He vaguely recognized Remus also standing up from his place by the door. He felt like he should move to, should do _something_, but his body wasn’t responding.

_I need to do something._

The edges of his vision were beginning to go black.

_Hmmm, that’s a bad sign. Fuck. I wish Lily was here._

Dumbledore had begun giving instructions for the remaining order members to protect themselves and their families: don’t tell anyone where they are. We can’t guarantee our conversations aren’t overheard.

“Sirius?” The pressure of someone’s hand against his shoulder jolted him suddenly back into his body.

_Shit._

He too left the room.

Out in the hallway, he leaned heavily against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

Dragging his hands through his hair.

Unfocused eyes somehow both dry and full of tears that refused to fall.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

_“There’s nothing you can do, Remus.” _Dorcas’ voice carried from somewhere else in the safehouse._ “There are no good endings here, we both know that. Either we get picked off one by one, or we choose our time ourselves and take some of the bastards out with us. I know I-” _her voice broke.

A pause.

_“I can’t do this without her. That’s just how it is.” _The sound of a door opening. _“If they send you my body, throw it back at Voldemort’s nasty mug first chance you get.”_

Sirius’ head hit the wall with a clunk. He wanted to go after her, go with her, but she wouldn’t want him to.

_Just another loved one Sirius hadn’t been able to protect._

He choked on a voiceless laugh.

* * *

Sirius made sure to be out of Remus’ way by the time he got back.

They left without speaking.

Dumbledore met them at the door and accompanied them to the apartment.

He hadn’t seemed surprised that Dorcas had left.

Said it was her decision.

_She shouldn’t have to fight alone._

Dumbledore began asking questions about Regulus.

_She shouldn’t have to die alone._

Sirius felt helpless.

_One of them was going to have to tell Lily_.

Regulus met them at the door, his entire visage grave and formal. When they’d left he’d began to offer to come with them, to do something, before realizing it was not his place.

He looked relieved to see Dumbledore.

They disappeared into what had become Regulus’ room.

Remus tried to catch Sirius’ eyes, but when those remained fixed on the ground he too left, closing the door of the second room behind him.

Sirius stood blankly, eyes on the floor, for several minutes. Dorcas’ words ringing in his ears.

_“If they send you my body-…“_

Too much silence.

_How was he going to tell Lily._

* * *

_Nothing is a very odd feeling. You’d think it would be painful, an all-encompassing lack, an emptiness. But nothing is just nothing. It doesn’t feel bad, or good. It’s slightly concerning because you feel like you should probably be experiencing emotions, but that concern is so distant and cursory that it holds no meaning either. Dorcas knew she could probably categorize what she was feeling as shock. She hadn’t been the first person they’d called when they’d seen the Mark in the sky. Part of her hated them for that. The other part recognized that as a half-hour later she’d ignored all reason and entered the wreckage of a building that was still on fire, they’d probably been right._

Dorcas left the meeting feeling _nothing_ but also feeling cold fury. She had never felt neutral about the concept of dying before, and that, in a sense, felt like a twisted sort of power. There’s power in the feeling that _nothing you can possibly do to me is worse than what I’ve already experienced_.

_In the house, a still-smoldering fyre-creature had grasped her, leaving a charred burn down the length of her left forearm._

_It should probably hurt._

_She should probably be concerned that it didn’t hurt._

_Probably._

She apparated home, not caring who traced her. They didn’t need her alive, so it didn’t matter to her if they chose to fight at her home or theirs. Theirs. The Order had known where Voldemort’s headquarters were for a while. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, overdramatic bastard. An old mansion of the Lestranges, filled with dark magic since long before this Dark Lord had arisen. Back when they’d been brave and foolish, the Potters had attempted to free some of the muggle experiments kept there. They’d survived, to the Dark Lord’s ire (Lily had landed one good shot too), but he’d kept the place. Almost in mockery, daring them to try it again. No one had been stupid enough to attempt what was clearly a suicide mission with little hope of reward (the prisoners had been far beyond saving).

Smart choice, that.

_She’d been the one to find the bodies. _

Dorcas found a piece of cloth and tightly bound her injured arm. Just because it didn’t hurt didn’t mean it wasn’t a liability.

_That is what happens when you’re the one to immediately enter still-burning ruins. The charred, unrecognizable forms constantly filled her mind’s eye. She’d seen that before, had fought in a war for two years now, but these were her people, the family of the one person she loved above all else._

_Had loved?_

_Fuck._

Her thought process went like this:

Human-brain: I want to punch Voldemort right in his slimy face, send him to an early grave, and then spit on it. Then I want to have a good cry and figure out how the fuck I’m going to deal with living without-…

_Not thinking about that._

Carrying on.

Logic-brain: I would have to find Voldemort to punch him and am highly unlikely to succeed in this laudable goal which would certainly result in my death whether I succeed or no.

Human-brain: Lily landed a hit on him, so it’s possible. I don’t have any information Voldemort doesn’t already know from his fucking spy, so if he takes me alive I’m not a liability. I don’t particularly care if I die. Also, we know where his stronghold is since he’s been rubbing it in our noses for over a year now.

Logic-brain: Don’t really have a counter to that.

By this time, she’d already done what little she needed to ‘set her affairs in order.’ Vanishing a few things, putting the letters she and Marlene had written in case of their deaths on the table, most of the known exterior wards on the building were alarms so if all went according to plan getting in wouldn’t be the hard part.

The wards were designed to keep prisoners in, not intruders out, after all.

_Feeling nothing was odd._

_Feeling furious, well, that was something._


	13. Reports of My Death Were Greatly Exaggerated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter-specific Warning for character death, blood, semi-graphic injury, mentions of torture, Bellatrix being Bellatrix

Pain.

Really all she could think of was the pain.

_A long cut was sliced through Dorcas’ forehead and cheek, the blood dripping down her face and past it to the ground. Her head drooped, body twitching unresponsively. She would have collapsed forward to the floor if it were not for the two Death Eaters holding her up under both arms. A third stood behind, wand pressed hard to the small of her back._

_“Lord.”_

_One of them spoke._

_He seemed to be trying to boast, whilst simultaneously hiding the purpling bruise over his left cheek. “This woman triggered the alarms during the meeting. We were all here so subduing her was quick work, I-“_

_“This pretty bitch killed five of ours before I arrived.” The high voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. A black-taloned hand grasped Dorcas by the jaw, forcibly raising her head. Dorcas, half-conscious, bared her teeth in an approximation of a smile while blood dripped slowly into her eyes. “I was going to kill her myself, but since you were here-“ She broke into a cackle._

_The other two death eaters shrank back as their Lord approached, leaving most of Dorcas’ weight hanging on Bellatrix’ grip on her jaw._

_“Dorcas Meadowes.” The Dark Lord’s voice rang high and empty. Echoless, as if spoken in a vacuum. “Who keeps the Potters secret?”_

_Dorcas didn’t answer, her eyes unfocused._

_“Who?” He repeated. _

_Bellatrix’ fingers dug into her cheeks as Dorcas breathed something like a choked laugh. “Why the fuck would I know.” Her voice rasped as if broken from screaming._

_“She’s not lying.” Bellatrix’ tone was shrill, annoyed but not surprised._

_Voldemort tipped his head, regarding their prisoner for a slow moment. “No, she’s not.”_

_“Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.” Dorcas managed. In a moment, Voldemort’s own wand was pressed against her forehead._

_A laugh garbled with blood._

_She spit in his face._

_And the world lit with green._

_…_

_No! _

…

_Not-…_

Marlene returned to consciousness with a jolt and then immediately regretted it. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. The remains of curses riddled her form. Her normally long hair was charred in places right to the skin. She was still dressed in the remains of the grey tank and joggers she had worn to bed-… last night? A year ago? Ten? and they were mottled with curse holes and stained dark with what she assumed must be her blood.

_Oh thank god._

_Dorcas wasn’t there._

_Dorcas wasn’t-_

She groaned.

The ability to move her limbs was coming back, but with it, another jolt of pain. Wincing, she managed to force herself into a seated position with her back resting heavily against what seemed a wall. She closed her eyes and breathed as steadily as she could manage, trying not to lose consciousness again.

_Where was she?_

She didn’t know.

_What had happened?_

Pain, deep empty pain, echoed from the region of her heart. Best not to think of that.

_What was going to happen?_

Her face contorted painfully as she tried to think back.

The Death Eaters had found them somehow.

Had shown up in the middle of the night.

But for some reason-…

She’d seen black and assumed she was dead or dying, but then had woken in this-… basement, to one of them questioning her.

_Marlene lay prone on the floor, her body shaking from the last particularly creative curse._

_“Are you the Potters’ secret keeper?” Her interrogator had growled, pressing his wand between her shoulders._

_“What?” _

_“A little birdie told me you’re Lily Potter’s best friend.”_

_“Might be.”_

_“So are you?”_

_She managed a half-grimace, cheek pressed into the smooth-tiled floor. “That’s none of your damn business now is it?”_

_Pain._

_So much pain._

_She must have blacked out._

_When she woke it was to the shrill voice of Sirius’ cousin that had appeared in her dream. “It’s not her. Oh, and it’s my turn now. Amateurs.”_

_Marlene found herself lifted by the jaw, scrabbling her feet as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her at being suddenly upright. Bellatrix’ face looking down at her cruelly as she gained her balance. “Who keeps the Potters secret?”_

_“You figured out it’s not me? Gold star.” Marlene’s voice was garbled by the hand that had moved to grasp her throat. She choked a laugh._

_Bellatrix snarled in a way that could have been argued to be a smile. “Who. Is. It.”_

_A noise from some other part of the mansion startled them both. Bellatrix breathed a laugh before blasting her against the wall with her wand._

_Everything had gone black._

_Ok. So why wasn’t she dead, and if she wasn't dead, why wasn't Bellatrix back?_

Marlene opened her eyes and looked around more carefully. She was alone. The basement was mostly dark, but the trap door above was slightly ajar, letting in a bit of filtering light.

All was silent.

_Right then. Inventory._

Marlene was in her pajamas. She was injured, although she found upon trying that she could stand. The space was bare, save for some shelves near the trap door that must have served as stairs. At least she assumed.

_Time to test that theory._

There were certain to be Death Eaters in the house, and they were certain to be back soon. The empty shelves were more unstable than Marlene expected (they definitely were not the official means of entrance) and her right ankle throbbed horrendously, but she managed. Pushing on the trap door with as much strength as she could manage she scrabbled up into what appeared to be a pantry.

_Pantry. Kitchen-…_

Marlene poked her head out to survey the kitchen, seeing two exits. One was ornate, and looked well-used, the other was wooden and looked to have been built into the wall to make it as unobtrusive as possible.

_I wonder-…_

Wizarding mansions were built in a certain way. There was a sense of magic about it in the building, the materials, and this kitchen, to put it frankly, didn’t have it. Thinking back on the old muggle buildings she’d visited with Dorcas, Marlene was reminded of a particular trait of the muggle aristocracy: They didn’t like to see their servants. They would build separate entrances, separate hallways even, just to make sure they never had to interact.

If this house, long in a wizarding family, had once been muggle- that door might hide a rarely used exit.

Taking a deep breath, Marlene slipped into the kitchen proper.

Another noise.

_Alarms?_

Shouting.

_Fuck._ Marlene made her way as quickly as she could to the door on the opposite side of the room, pushed back the table that blocked it, and stepped through into a dusty, unkempt hallway.

_Bingo, servants’ passage._

The noise was getting louder. She shut the door. The table couldn’t be helped. Some stairs across from her led down to what appeared to be an entry door into a garden. Exactly what she needed. Unfortunately, here her luck ran out here as the door was definitively locked. It had a little window on it, and she could see through it that the outside was covered in ivy. This increased her confidence that the muggle servants passages were not well-known to the wizarding inhabitants of the house. However, it didn’t change the fact that she needed to keep moving and find some way of getting through that door.

_Goddamnit. If only she had a wand. _She took a left and followed a different passage, feeling that her outfit was very out of place in something that seemed to be cut right out of the 17th century. She supposed the next reasonable goal was to hide for as long as she could and try to find a spare wand.

A door at the other end of this passageway opened behind a tapestry in the house proper. Who the fuck has tapestries on their walls anymore? No way but forwards. As she scooted along behind the tapestry the shouting drew closer and she froze.

**BOOM**

An explosion rocked the floor forcing her to take a step out from behind the tapestry to steady herself. What the fuck was that? O K. Gonna call a retreat. At that moment, just as she was about turn and try to regain the servants’ passage, a figure rushed around the corner.

Both froze.

“Dorcas?”

“Marlene?”

Dorcas’ face was pale, a cut crossed her forehead dripping blood. Her wand was gripped tight in her left hand. In half-a-second Marlene had grabbed her girlfriend by the arm and dragged her back into the servant’s passage.

“Why the fuck are you here?!” Marlene hissed, the shouting going on along the main hallway behind them as they ran.

“How the fuck are you not dead?!” Dorcas replied, throwing a spell to blockade the door behind them.

Suddenly Marlene stopped and turned, using her own momentum to slam their bodies together as she brought their lips together harshly. The kiss was desperate and lasted only a few seconds before Marlene pulled back, murmured “I don’t fucking know.” And dragged them forward once again.

Marlene’s supposition had been correct. The house they were in had been first-built by a muggle lord around 1705. The Lestranges had picked a fight with him, and after the unfortunate demise of his entire family, had added the mansion to their many properties. The servants passages had been of little interest to them and had soon been forgotten. In another life, Lord Christopher Aubrey would have been very pleased to know his house had messed with the Lestranges one last time.

Unlocking the door proved impossible due to long-rusted hinges and the thickness of the ivy covering it from the outside. “I’m going to have to blast it.” Dorcas concluded. “That’ll make a lot of noise and we’ve evaded them for now. I think we should pause for a moment.” Marlene nodded, leaning heavily against the wall as the adrenaline wore off and she started to realize she was in _significant pain_. Dorcas reached out to steady her. “Fuck. You’re really hurt I-“

“Lets just get out of here. Worry about me afterwards.”

Dorcas nodded, but still _lashio’_d a piece off her shirt to bind around Marlene’s ankle. “Ready?”

Marlene nodded.

The door exploded off its hinges with a crash.

* * *

Sirius was _fine._

And if he told himself that enough times, maybe it’d be true.

It had been two days since they’d gotten the news of Marlene’s death.

48 hours.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d done during most of them.

When Regulus or Remus was in the room (which was seldom, Regulus appeared to be assembling research for Dumbledore, and Sirius tried to avoid Remus as much as possible), Sirius play-acted being fine tolerably well in his opinion. But the only thing he really felt, constantly, was with nearly unbearable guilt.

He wasn’t really taking care of himself, but he didn’t feel like he deserved to.

He didn’t deserve food.

He didn’t deserve sleep.

He didn’t deserve to call James.

He didn’t deserve-

“Sirius.” Regulus.

Sirius was seated at the kitchen table, apparently. He smoothed a nothing expression onto his face and looked up. “What?”

“You look like shit.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Remus is worried about you.”

“You gotta try harder than that.” 

“Ugh! Sirius.” Regulus stood up with a glare. “I understand you’re hurting but the way you’re acting is helping no one.”

Sirius kept his blank expression.

Regulus left the room for a second, then returned with an uncomfortable looking Remus and sat down on the other side of the table. “Someone told Voldemort where your friend and her family were. I’m damn sure it’s not you or Remus, but there’s only so many people it could be so if you two would stop throwing yourselves a pity party and think objectively that’d be great.”

“I _tried_ thinking objectively, that was how I convinced myself it was Remus.” Sirius pouted. He did _not_ appreciate being lectured at by his little brother.

Remus flinched. “I thought the reverse.”

Regulus’ face expressed confusion. “See, that’s what I don’t understand. Putting aside my brother because our family-” a dry laugh “- is hell, there’s no logical reason for it to be Remus. I can’t imagine how you came to that conclusion, Sirius.”

Sirius grimaced. Honestly, he’d been asking himself the same thing. Once he’d actually spoken it aloud and thought about it, the reasons for his fear seemed-… insignificant.

“You _loved_ him in school, even I could see that, so-“

Sirius fidgeted. “That’s just it. Someone was working for Voldemort, and I wouldn’t let myself think it was Remus even though he was lying to me and gone for months at a time,” He shrugged, face still empty. “because I loved him.”

“No, because objectively Remus is far too smart to be tempted by the Dark Lord's lies and has been through far too much shit to give into threats.” Regulus’ eyebrows furrowed.

While he’d originally looked like he wanted to be _anywhere_ but in this room having this conversation, Remus now looked deep in thought.

“That didn’t-… I knew-… I didn’t trust myself. I trusted-“ He paused, eyes widening. “Fuck.”

Remus also looked up with an expression of shocked realization. “Peter?” He asked.

Sirius stood frantically and dug his hands into his hair. “Yes. He didn’t trust you, and that shook me, because-”

“He told me the same thing about you” Remus’ face blanched. “which means-”

“I need to call James.”

* * *

Peter Pettigrew stood before the Dark Lord. He felt very small, and very, very scared. “Well you see, my Lord, you never asked me directly if-”

“Yes, yes. Your continued misplaced loyalty towards your friends is _highly_ annoying. Am I to learn that you helped the McKinnon girl escape too?”

“No, no, never, I-“

“Silence. You have served your purpose. I will deal with you upon my return.” A thin laugh, Peter trembled. “Now, I must settle my score with Harry Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus: okAY I'M CALLING A FAMILY MEETING SO SIT YOUR ASS DOWN
> 
> Wow, this plot is suddenly moving super fast? I don't know what to think of that. The timeline is fucked but who's keeping track, definitely not me!
> 
> The lesbians. They have my entire soul. I'm so glad I get to stop writing them being in pain and thinking each other are dead because that hurt me.
> 
> Would love any feedback!


	14. This Cliffhanger Is Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author would like to officially apologize for this, and once more assure the reader that everyone will end up being marginally ok. 
> 
> Also kudos to anyone who stuck with this fic! Since I last posted, I've started grad school and lordie does that take up a lot of my mental space.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_

_born to those who have thrice defied him, _

_born as the seventh month dies_

_ and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, _

_but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_

_and either must die at the hand of the other _

_for neither can live while the other survives_

_the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord _

_will be born as the seventh month dies."_

* * *

It had been a full 24 hours since Marlene and Dorcas made their daring escape from the Lestrange mansion. In that time, they’d visited two different safehouses, but both showed signs of recent use so they stopped only long enough to grab supplies before moving on. At first, magical transportation had been the only option, and a couple of apparitions had been necessary, but they lost their pursuers in the London Underground (perks of having a half-blood girlfriend who knows how to use public transport) before jumping on a train going north. At that point, about 6 hours in, they had been relatively sure they weren’t being followed, and Dorcas had taken some time to heal the deepest of Marlene’s wounds (and Marlene had insisted on healing the cut on Dorcas’ face).

“Why do you even keep skelegro in your pocket?” Marlene had teased, before downing the potion.

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “I think I’ve done all I can, some rest would be good though.” She craned her neck to look at the stop schedule printed on the wall over the doors. “We have at least two hours before we need to get off.” Marlene mumbled some sort of protest but nestled her head against Dorcas’ shoulder. Dorcas wrapped an arm about her and sighed. For now, they were both alive. That fact was far better than anything she could have imagined 24 hours ago.

* * *

“I need to call James.” Sirius stumbled to his feet, the kitchen chair falling unheeded behind him. “The mirror is-” He’d left it on a side-table in the living room, where he’d lost a fight with his self-isolation that morning.

“Sirius.” Remus stood slowly as Sirius crossed the room, his face pale. “There isn’t enough time for-“

“James!” Sirius’ hands shook about the mirror. Silence. “James! Why the fuck isn’t he answering? James!”

Remus crossed the room also, trying to get Sirius’ attention while Regulus summoned his patronus.

“Sirius, calm down.” Remus reached out to touch his hands, trying to get his attention. “You’re the secret keeper. Just take us there.”

“I-“ Their eyes met for a second, Sirius’ full of guilt.

“Fuck.” Remus turned away, running his hands roughly through his own hair. “You switched without telling me.” A hollow laugh, “If they die, it’s because you-“

“I know!” Sirius shouted, clutching the glass tight enough that its edge cut his hand.

“Sirius?” James’ voice cut through. His mirrored expression showed confused worry.

“James! Oh thank Christ.” Sirius spoke rapidly, each word stumbling over the next. “You’re not safe. Get Lily and Harry out of there now.”

“What?” James blinked. His fear had been for his adopted brother, so to have that rapidly turned on himself was jarring. He wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“Peter’s the spy.” Sirius attempted to slow down and speak clearly. “The house isn’t safe.”

James nodded and set down the mirror. “I’ll-”

Sirius looked up. “What do we do now? I can’t-“

“Lily! We’re not safe here. Get Harry-” James’ voice, more distant, he’d left the room but the mirror was still active for some reason.

Sirius was unwilling to let go of the mirror while he could still hear James, but there must be something, something they could do. If only he could get to James. If only he hadn’t-

Regulus spoke quickly to his patronus with one eye on his brother, telling Dumbledore that Pettigrew was the spy and the Potters were in danger.

Suddenly, the mirror began to glow brighter and brighter white. A noise of increasing pitch and volume emanated from it, turning into a metallic, inhuman shriek within half a second.

“Sirius drop it!” Remus yelled. Regulus made an aborted attempt to move towards them.

The mirror shattered in Sirius’ hands.

* * *

Marlene woke with a start, fingers reflexively digging into Dorcas’ arms.

* * *

_“Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! I’ll hold him off!”_

* * *

Sirius stared blankly at his hands, bright red rising quickly to coat the glass shards imbedded in them.

* * *

_“Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I’ll do anything!”_

* * *

With a feeling like water rushing into a funnel, both Marlene and Dorcas suddenly knew where James and Lily Potter lived.

“Shit.” Not caring about the trace, Marlene grabbed Dorcas’ arm and in a moment they were standing in Godric’s Hollow.


	15. Lots of Hugs are Had All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I keep my promise. 
> 
> The conclusion of the first part of this story! I might add onto this later, but I wanted to get it out there so no one else gets stuck on the last chapter's nasty cliffhanger.

The air was full of dust with a bitter tang of dark magic, but the sky was clear.

No dark mark hung above the house.

At first, that had brought hope, but the massive hole blown in the second story quickly quenched it. Sirius and Remus had both run inside immediately, heedless of any lingering danger. This left Regulus alone, looking up at the wreck of what had only that morning been a safe, loving home.

He didn’t belong here.

....

_“What the hell are you waiting for.”_

_Another death eater jabbed him in the ribs. _

_The house was dark, but Regulus was well aware of what horrors lay within. “Cast the damn spell. Your cousin said to make sure you were involved in this job, what with you spending all your time holed up with your books, doubting our methods.”_

_They had had a wizard daughter, a year below him in school._

_She hadn’t wanted to be involved, but her half-blood status with a muggle mother made that impossible._

_“I’m sure She’d love to hear that you're holding us up.”_

_Regulus flinched._

_As he sent up the dark mark, he wondered if he had known them._

_...._

“Oh god.” A voice broke through the memory. Regulus blinked. Not Sirius, a woman’s voice?

He turned to see what was definitively a ghost.

“McKinnon?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Marlene looked murderous and Regulus wondered if Dorcas had mentioned to her ghost girlfriend that he wasn’t working with the other Death Eaters anymore. And then realized that he was by himself, infront of their best friends’ destroyed house. Shit.

“Where are James, Lily, and Harry?” Dorcas asked, her hand going to her wand.

“I don’t know.” He raised his hands, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. "I came here with-"

Sirius stumbled out across the threshold, his face pale. He did a double-take. “How the fuck are you not dead?”

“Sirius?” Marlene’s gaze shifted. Oh thank fuck. Regulus relaxed slightly, but kept his arms raised.

“Marlene?” Remus joined Sirius in the doorway. He too looked utterly stunned.

“Are they in there?” Dorcas asked.

“No.” Sirius croaked. “The house is destroyed, but there’s no sign of anyone.”

Dorcas nodded. She looked sick, her dark complexion ashy with the dust filling the air. Remus and Sirius joined the others outside.

“If they escaped him, again.” Remus spoke, voicing the hope that all of them were trying to crush. “If. Where would they go?”

“They know it’s Peter, so all the usual places are compromised. Even old ones from our time at Hogwarts.” Sirius’s voice was still empty, dead. “But those are places James would go. Lily would-… Marlene?”

Marlene frowned for a moment, before her eyes slowly brightened. “Remember Petunia?”

“Lily’s muggle sister?” Dorcas' face was blank.

“She hates her, and everything wizarding." Marlene rolled her hand, as if to tell herself to hurry up. "She didn’t come to the wedding and it broke Lily’s heart so she doesn’t talk about her much." Petunia and Lily had been estranged for years. Petunia and her husband had moved into the suburbs after their marriage, but where exactly hadn’t seemed pertinent to anybody. “If Lily needed to go somewhere unexpected, she'd go to her.”

* * *

“Shhhh. Harry love you’ve done so well. We’ve got to stay quiet for just a little longer.” James Potter murmured to the child held tightly against his chest. The baby was still asleep, but James found he couldn’t keep himself from reassuring him. Reassuring himself that they were alive, that Harry was ok.

“Absolutely not!” Petunia Dursley’s sharp voice caught the wind.

“Petunia-” Lily’s was a harsh, barely discernable whisper.

“I will let you into my house because you’re my sister. I will let your /son/ in because it’s cold, but I will /not/ have a person of /his/ sort corrupting-“

Lily grabbed Petunia by the collar. “I have had a very long night the likes of which you cannot imagine. You will let me inside with my husband and my son and you will do it now.”

“Fine.” Petunia hissed, pushing Lily away but holding the door open. “We just emptied the cupboard under the stairs. You can stay there till morning, but do not let my husband or my son catch a glimpse of you.”

“Thank you.” Lily grabbed James’ hand and together they went inside.

* * *

The house was utterly dark. Just another cookie-cutter home with a neatly trimmed lawn and picket fence. A large cat sat on the edge of the grass, but its presence was ignored by the newcomers.

“I can’t-… if they’re not here-” Marlene began.

“We’ll figure it out then.” Dorcas squeezed her hand. “Sirius can you get the door?”

Sirius had the muggle lock open in a second and beckoned for the others to join him. “James? Lily?” He called in a half-whisper.

The house remained silent.

It was silent for about 3 seconds before a door opened with a low creak. “Sirius? Is that you?”

“Lily?” Sirius’ voice was filled with relief, but still at a whisper.

“What did I say when you told me you liked Remus, the first time?”

“Nothing. We were passing notes in class. You drew a heart.”

_Lumos._

Lily, holding her lit wand. Dirty, bruised, but alive. She threw herself into Sirius’ arms. “Thank Merlin you’re here. James is fine. Harry is fine. A little bruised. They’re asleep.” Both of their eyes were full of tears when she pulled back. “Oh god, were you followed?”

“No. I made damn well sure of it.”

“Dorcas!” Lily stared. “You’re alright? When you left I thought-…”

A flash of golden hair was the only warning before Marlene was by Lily’s side and pulling her into a hug. “Lily I know you think I’m dead but that feeling is mutual and I swear if I don’t hug you right now I will die.”

If Marlene hadn’t caught her in a hug that instant Lily might have lost her footing entirely. As it was she gasped and twined her hands in Marlene’s hair. “I-” Lily burst into silent, heavy tears. “I’m dreaming.”

* * *

“Go inside.” Regulus stated evenly, praying that Remus would trust him.

When they first heard Lily’s voice, Remus had frozen. He hadn’t let himself hope they were going on anything but a fruitless errand. He didn’t think-… and when he did think, the others besides Regulus had already joined Sirius and Lily.

When he did think, he realized that the most important thing was to protect them, to protect his family. Someone needed to stand guard and work on reinforcing the wards. They couldn’t afford to rejoice yet (no one had yet explained how in all that was holy Marlene was alive either), they had to be safe first, and they very much were not. He and Regulus had wordlessly begun reinforcing the wards. Thankfully, Regulus' wand had been returned to him so he could work with Dumbledore so he could be useful here.

“We’ve done all we can do. If something happens, you’ll be the first to know.” Regulus tried to look what he imagined reassuring looked like.

Remus hesitated for a moment, then nodded and went inside.

Regulus let out the breath he had been holding and positioned himself in the shadows next to the door. The street was silent, save for the ocasional motorist in the distance. The moon shone coolly, and he was alone.

Alone, save for the cat, which turned and blinked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love love love this bit. The repeated "Wait, I thought you were dead?" is just so funny to me. Also all the hugs. This did my heart good.
> 
> I can't believe I've gotten this far with this story. Thank you to all of you for your support, and special thanks to YouBlitheringIdiot for all of your encouragement. You are the best.


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